


The Wandmaker's Daughter

by The_Lochness_Monster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1930s, F/F, Pre-war England, Wandlore, slowish burn, thank god you can edit tags because I have no idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24032188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lochness_Monster/pseuds/The_Lochness_Monster
Summary: Ostara Ollivander, only child of Garrick Ollivander, begins her adventures at Hogwarts. She must navigate through Wizarding high society as Gellert Grindelwald finds power both domestically and overseas. Which side will she choose to fight for, and how will her presence affect the wizarding world?
Relationships: Ostara Ollivander/Cassiopeia Black
Kudos: 5





	The Wandmaker's Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I apologize for the horrendous summary. I decided to write this when I noticed that Cassiopeia Black never married and thought that that was certainly suspicious. I also find the idea behind wandlore fascinating, so I wanted to ~~investigate~~ that a bit more than is done in cannon. Also if Garrick didn't have a child then a 2200+ year near monopoly is going to just dissolve? We can't have that.

Ostara Ollivander was often described as odd. It hardly bothered her because oddity was considered a family trait, in fact in the Ollivander household normalcy was considered oddity, and had been for as long as anyone could remember. Ostara was therefore expected to behave in such a manner, and she hardly disappointed. From the age of 3 she could be found in the back left corner of the family shop sitting in a highchair with a handful of sticks to entertain her, and while this alone did not raise any eyebrows, what did was her lack of noise. She was perfectly content to sit in silence as she watched the young witches and wizards obtain their first wands. When a customer encountered a wand that reacted violently with his or her magic, Ostara didn’t react beyond a slight turn of her head. Despite explosions, sparks, and, in one memorable case, a rather large fire, she never jumped, yelled, or cried. Rather, she keenly observed the wand’s reaction. It was unnerving to the customers. 

Her father, odd in his own right, encouraged such behavior. As Ostara aged, he began to question her on the nature of the reactions, asking her things such as why the small quiet girl that had tentatively entered the store responded so violently to a holly and dragon heartstring wand, but not to one of ash wood. In order to learn how to match witch and wizard to wand, Ostara had to first understand how to understand the customer. It was her first lesson in her unofficial apprenticeship that began the day she was born. 

In the Ollivander household it was presumed that son or daughter would inevitably inherit the family business, not because of any outspoken pressure placed on the successor, but because no one had ever done differently. There was never any need for coercion. It was for this reason that Garrick Ollivander began to teach his daughter with such enthusiasm and unrelenting expectation. At first, his questioning extended only to categorizing his customers. It started simply enough; when she was five she was required to identify the different emotions customers expressed when buying their wand. 

She quickly was able to differentiate between the purebloods, half bloods, and muggleborns. The former tended to enter with an arrogance not commonly found in the later two. To them, while the act of buying a wand was certainly special, it was, in their eyes, their birth right. Half bloods, meanwhile, approached the experience with significantly less pomposity. The muggleborn customers were Ostara’s favorite. They entered the store with irrefutable excitement and thinly veiled nervousness. They would unapologetically watch even the most mundane of magic with awe. Ostara imagined that for them, buying a wand was the most declarative act they could make. After they owned one, it was indisputable that they were a part of the wizarding world.

The bell on the the door rang softly. Ostara looked up from her book on wand wood in 13th century Egypt she had been reading behind the counter. A man of about 40 stood in the doorway. A young girl around the same age as Ostara stood at the man’s side clutching his hand. Her dark brown eyes were large as they looked in wonderment around the shop, seemly trying to memorize everything about it. The man had no such admiration and quickly strode to the counter. Ostara stared at him with unblinking eyes. When he stood directly in front of her she spoke. 

“Hello Lord Flint it is an honor to assist you. How may I be of service?” She said quietly. 

“Where is Lord Ollivander?” The man questioned.

“Father is in the back.” Ostara’s eyes slipped to the girl who stood just taller than the countertop. If Ostara hadn’t been perched on the tall spindly stool, she wouldn’t have been able to see the girl at all. The girl shifted slightly under Ostara’s gaze. 

“Well don’t just sit there, go get him.” The man sneered.

Ostara nodded solemnly, but shot the girl a wink when the man’s attention focused on the open door leading to the back of the shop. She jumped off her stool without a hint of grace and walked through doorway, closing the door sharply behind her. 

“Father! There are customers at the front. Hogwarts, I think.”

There was a loud thump as Garrick jumped down from a ladder. He was a man of around 30, but who looked much older. His hair which grew curly in each direction was already nearly white. He had mutton chops that were unregulated and allowed to grow past what was considered fashionable. He was an average height and an average build. In fact, practically everything about him was average. Except his eyes. He had light blue eyes that caught the light no matter how dimly lit the surroundings were. His daughter looked much the same, but her hair was platinum and straight and went several inches past her shoulders. 

“Ah! Who is it?”

“Lord Flint and his eldest daughter Ella.” Garrick hummed thoughtfully.

“What is your guess?” 

“Cedar or perhaps English Oak. Unicorn hair I’m sure. Approximately 8-10 inches.” 

Garrick nodded at this. “You saw the display at the Malfoy’s between Miss Flint and Miss Rosier then?”

“Yes. That in addition to her interaction with Heir Longbottom at the Ministry’s ball.” She paused for a moment. “She also acted like a muggleborn when she entered the shop.”  
Garrick smiled, clearly pleased with her observation. 

“Let’s go see then, shall we?”

The pair walked back to the front of the store, Ostara trailing slightly behind her father. Ella, who had been leaning around the counter to see into the side room where many of the wands were kept, quickly snapped back to full height by her father.

“Your Lordship.” Garrick greeted as he swept into a deep bow. His cold blue eyes never leaving the other man.

“Lord Ollivander. If you please, we have places to be.”

“Off to Hogwarts then Miss?” Garrick addressed Ella.

“Yes your Lordship.” 

Garrick hummed as he magicked his tools to take measurements of the girl; everything from the length of her right forearm to the width of the bridge of her nose had to be considered. Those who were uninterested and uneducated in the way of wand making often discounted these measurements, but the Ollivanders, like all great wandmakers, knew the accuracy of such details were of paramount importance. While the core and wood of the wand determined the power of the magic its owner could channel, the size determined the precision. Many witches and wizards of years past had been so enamored with the power of a particular wood and core combination that they completely neglected to tune the size of it, and found, rather frustratingly, that their spells were never quite right. 

As the tape measure worked, in the side room several wand boxes’ labels were illuminated in a soft golden light only visible to Garrick and his daughter. Some lit up briefly before another measurement was registered and the light snubbed out. The tape measure suddenly crumpled to the ground. Ostara, who up until that point, had been staring intently at Ella, walked into the side room and looked curiously at the lit boxes. It was with a smug satisfaction that she noticed that the vast majority were either Cedar or English Oak. As her father began to climb the ladders to reach some of the wands, Ostara returned to the front and her one-way staring contest with Ella. 

Ella did not appreciate the staring. There was something odd about the way the wandmaker’s daughter was looking at her, as though she wasn’t looking at her at all, but rather was looking through her. Ella noticed that girl had the same piercing blue eyes as her father. They were creepy, she decided. She wasn’t particularly surprised that Ostara Ollivander was strange, despite them both being pureblood, Ella had never seen Ostara at any of the society events she and her family frequented. In fact, she had never even heard of Ostara or her father attending one. She knew her family always invited them, even if it was entirely due to polite society decorum, and assumed that the other pureblood families extended the same offer to their respective events. Indeed, Ella had not heard of any informal gatherings involving the Ollivanders. She strongly suspected that Ostara didn’t have any friends. Ella was not about to be the first, so she made no effort to make conversation. 

Garrick returned with a handful of boxes.  
“Try this, Cedar and unicorn hair, 9 inches, medium flexibility.” 

As quickly as Ella touched the wand, it was plucked out of her hands by Lord Ollivander.  
“No no that won’t do. Holly and Phoenix feather, 13 inches, slightly stiff” He motioned to a new wand.

Ella picked it up but was disappointed to find she felt nothing at all.  
“Hmm, this one now. English Oak and phoenix feather, 10 inches, particularly flexible”

Ella tried again and slashed the new wand down. Several wand boxes shot out and onto the floor in the other room.  
“Ah, certainly not.” Ella tried several more to no avail. Her father began to tap his foot impatiently.

Ostara stood abruptly, startling both Ella and Lord Flint. She quickly walked past her father to one of the ladders, climbed to the top row, and carefully withdrew one of the wand boxes. She descended the ladder and approached her father. To Ella and Lord Flint, they appeared to be having a silent conversation. Garrick nodded and brought the wand to Ella. 

“English Oak and dragon heartstring, 11 and a half inches, quite bendy.”  
Ella glanced at her father, who nodded before reaching out slowly towards the wand. The moment she held it she felt a pleasant warmth surrounding her as gold sparks erupted from the wand. Lord Flint awkwardly clasped her shoulder in congratulations. 

“Ah, excellent, excellent. A loyal wand for its owner alone. I expect you’ll prove yourself equally loyal my dear.” Garrick gave her a knowing look.  
“Well done Ella.” Lord Flint said. Turning to Garrick he asked, “7 galleons then?”  
“If you please sir.”

Ella glanced at Ostara who was looking back at her with a self-satisfied smile on her face. Lord Flint paid and motioned to his daughter to follow him out. Ella broke from her gaze and followed him out the door. 

“What made you guess that one?” Garrick asked his daughter after the customers had left.

“The violent response to the first English Oak wand she tried indicated a need for a more flexible build, while the slight cold that emanated from the unicorn hair wand showed more power was needed.” Ostara spoke quickly and confidently. 

“And the length?”

Ostara paused, ducking her head to allow her platinum hair to cover part of her face. “A guess.”  
Garrick gave her an amused look. “A good enough reason as any when the result is a matched wand. But, so you know, her wand arm was 0.2 centimeters shorter than her other.”  
Ostara nodded in understanding. Garrick’s face suddenly broke out into a lopsided smile. 

“Your first match! You never forget the first one.” He said wistfully.

“Father you never forget any of the wands you sell.”

“And neither will you my dear.” He said winking.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Ella turned to her father when they exited into a bustling Diagon Alley. 

“Are they always so..” She drifted off.

“The house of Ollivander has always been a bit peculiar. It seems Lord Ollivander’s daughter will not be breaking that pattern. You must remember your manners around them, even strange they are still an Ancient and Noble House.”

“Of course, I apologize father.”

“Yes, well I’ll drop you off with your mother to pick out your school robes. I have some business to attend while we’re here.”Ella dipped her head in understanding as they continued down the street. 

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Father, can I go to Forrest’s?”

Garrick nodded absentmindedly without looking up from his workbench. Ostara walked quickly to the large cupboard on the side of the room. She stared up at a small box on the top of the cupboard. Although she knew summoning it was far outside her abilities, she just needed to move the box a few inches. She focused on the box and extended her hand as she aimed her pointer finger towards it before making a horizontal swiping motion away from her body. It shifted slightly. She repeated the motion, her eyes narrowing in on the box. Slowly, it got closer to the edge. Eventually it was nudged enough to fall off the side and into her waiting hands. A wide grin spread across Ostara’s face. She opened the box and took out a few galleons from inside. Knowing she did not yet have the capability to levitate the box back up to the top of the cupboard, she chose to leave it on a nearby table. She strode into the front of the store and out the door. 

Diagon alley was especially busy. It was the week before Hogwarts started a new term, and it seemed as though, as usual, most of the wizarding community had left their shopping until the last moment. Ostara darted around witches and wizards with the grace that only those who grew up in a city possessed. In no time at all she found herself in front of Forrest’s Creamery. 

When she entered, she found the store to be packed to the brim with witches and wizards of all ages. It was loud. Dodging those in line, she made her way to the counter where she proceeded to duck underneath. The two teenagers working the front paid her no mind. She dipped into the back where a portly middle aged man was churning a large pot of cream with his wand. He was a balding man with hardly any hair left at all. 

“Forrest!” Ostara had to shout over the chatter from the front of the creamery.

The man turned, and immediately beamed at the girl.

“Ostara! How are you little lady?” Before she could open her mouth to reply Forrest continued. “I have a new flavor I think you’d like: chocolate and mint. Those muggles have the right idea with mint I can tell you that. Come here and give it a try!” 

He flicked his wand and a wooden spoon appeared along with a dollop of ice cream in front of Ostara. Grinning, she reached out and grabbed it. 

“What an odd flavor, I like it!” 

“I think it needs a touch more sugar, but there’s time yet. How was your morning?”

“I got my first match! English Oak and dragon heartstring 11 and a half inches.” She recited dutifully. 

“That’s my girl!” He bellowed and rushed to pick her up. He spun her around several times as she laughed before plopping her back down.

“Do you want to stay and help or are you off to wherever it is you go all day?” His smile was still very much intact.

“I have to pick up a book, but I won’t say no to a custard.”

“Always reading you are. Raspberry?” 

Ostara crinkled her nose in disgust. “Absolutely not”

“Ah yes, orange is it?” He tapped his finger playfully on his chin as he spoke.

“You know I hate fruit Forrest.” She said slightly exasperatedly.

He waved his wand summoning a large cone with a rather precariously tall pile of caramel custard stacked on top. 

Grinning, Ostara thanked him before going out the way she came. As she passed the staff, she dropped a galleon in the till. She wove her way through the crowd and back out into the street. She walked a short while before turning onto Knockturn Alley. It was a quieter side street that Ostara liked far more than Diagon Alley for this particular attribute. While it wasn’t quite as nice as Diagon Alley it still held a certain charm. The people that frequented this street rarely had the fine clothing that was commonplace on Diagon Alley. She walked past the first several stores before entering a small one. 

The slightly chipped white sign that hung above the door read Boredom Books. There was no bell to announce her presence, but the moment she entered a woman in her early 20s popped her out of the side door. She had mousy hair that was tied haphazardly into a bun at the top of her head. Loose strands had escaped in excess. The woman lazily brushed it aside. Like Ostara, she wore a long black dress with sleeves that fully covered her arms, but unlike Ostara’s, her dress was cinched tightly at the waist by a black corset. 

“The great Ostara Ollivander graces us with her presence, what an absolute honor.” She spoke in a dry monotone voice. “I just got your book this morning.”

“You are most welcome Madam Magnolis. I imagine you must be rather star stuck.” Ostara stuck her chin up and spoke with her poshest of accents as she raised her right arm expectantly.  
The tips of the woman’s lips twitched up as she kissed the back of Ostara’s hand. The other patrons, two middle aged men, looked on confused. 

“Come on in the back love.”

Ostara followed the woman behind a cloth that hung from a door frame into a room that was overflowing with books. If there was an organization system, it wasn’t at all apparent to Ostara. There were books on nearly every surface, including the floor. They followed a walkway that was carved out of the mountain of books that rose to Ostara’s chest to a small table whose top was, unsurprisingly, almost completely blanketed by even more books. 

“So how you’ve been? It feels like just yesterday you were here shifting through old musty books. Oh wait that’s right it was. And the day before that. And the day before that.”

Ostara rolled her eyes.“If I remember correctly you were the one who told me to come anytime I wanted.”

“If I had known you’d take it so seriously I wouldn’t have offered.” The woman’s smile betrayed the bite to her words.

“Do you have the book or not Iris?”

Iris drew her wand and cast a silent accio. A large book came flying into her hand from the corner of the room. 

“Here you are. I’ll even throw in one my favorites free of charge. You know with you being a noblewoman and all.” She summoned another book and handed them both to Ostara, who immediately looked at the gifted one.

“Theoretical Transfiguration in the 15th Century,” Ostara read aloud, “you know I’m 11 right?”

“Like that would stop you. Besides even if you don’t understand now you will eventually. Mind, half the stuff in there is utter cock, but there’s some worthwhile information. Trust me, you’ll impress a lot of your fellow Ravenclaws with that. Second edition that is.”

“I haven’t been sorted yet. For all you know I could be a Gryffindor.” 

Iris snorted. “Yeah sure, and I’ll be the next minister of magic. You’re far too smart to go into Gryffindor. I’d bet my left arm that you’ll be in Ravenclaw, your whole family has been ravens.”“You never know. I could be a Hufflepuff.”

“Well you certainly do like eating enough to be one.”

Ostara shot Iris her best attempt of a menacing glare. Unfortunately, being 11 rather lessened the effect, and instead Iris laughed and ruffled her hair. 

“I’ll miss you this year.” Iris spoke in a serious tone. “Remember to send letters.”

Ostara barreled into Iris before she could say another word. After a moment Iris wrapped her arms around the girl and squeezed her close. 

“You’ll do great little one.” She whispered in Ostara’s ear.

After a few seconds Ostara pulled away.

“I’ll miss you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. That was a lot of set up. Things will pick up a bit when Ostara heads off to Hogwarts :)
> 
> Quick note on Knockturn alley- I'm going ahead and assuming that the wealth gap wasn't as dramatic as it was in the 1990s, and Knockturn alley serves as the lower-middle class shopping center. The anti-muggleborn rhetoric, while still present in the 1930s, isn't going to be as venomous as is seen in cannon. Because of this, things like traditional wizarding culture will be more of a point of contention than blood status. Hopefully we'll see over time how the climate changes to bring blood purity as a status symbol. Radicalization doesn't happen overnight- this time period marks the start of the ideals Voldemort & co tout coming to prominence. 
> 
> This is my first fic so any criticism is more than welcome! Let me know if anything doesn't make sense and I'll try to address it in the coming chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
